Mar. 26th, 2016

zetasyanthis: (Default)
This one might be a bit disjointed. I've been trying to write the past few weeks, but my energy levels just haven't been there. Maybe it's the medication (Zoloft). Maybe it's the phone call from my sister last week. I just don't know. Whatever it is, I've been nowhere near 100% for a while.

Since I need to write, but am not sure what to write about, I'm just going to start with a bit of a status update. The last few weeks have been rough. I started deep DNMS therapy shortly after my last post, and while it's really helpful, reaching back to comfort my earlier self is a hell of an energy drain. In fact, the first session, combined with an event that happened shortly thereafter (~3 hours or so) knocked me out of commission for a good week and a half. :/

I'm going to try and talk about the therapy a little bit here, but I need to acknowledge, at least in a little detail, the aforementioned event, because it's had a profound effect on my own mental state the last couple weeks. I've learned a lot about the true depth and power of depression and anxiety in the last year, but never more so in the depths of my own mind last October. On that night a few Thursdays ago, I learned a different lesson along the same lines as I spent more than two hours trying to talk a friend down from committing suicide. I learned what it meant to fail. I learned what it meant to fail another, to fail myself, and what will happen if we fail each other.

While she survived the night, I had no way to know she would when she finally disappeared on me. As I laid there, texts going unanswered, I finally collapsed, energy levels flat-lining after far too much energy expenditure in one short span of hours. I awakened to find her alive, and I am eternally grateful for that, but I am scared now. Scared for all of us. :S We have got to do something about the hate and violence directed towards us. We have got to do something about the way we teach children that they are broken in so many ways. And maybe, just maybe, we can find a way to teach everyone else that they can be safe and happy along the way. >.<

This cannot happen any more. We have got to help on another, to help ourselves, and to reach out to those in need. The next few months, and perhaps even years, may be terrible ones, but we can make it through this. We must. We have to teach the rest.

...I guess I didn't talk about therapy, but that's okay. Maybe next time. :S
zetasyanthis: (Default)
As much as I'd rather do anything but, I need to write this out, so here goes. >.<

I've been really depressed the last few days. Even beyond that, I've been really out of it the last few weeks. Some of that has been medication-related (insomnia, now dealt with), some of it's been family-related, and some has been all the horrible stuff in the news. A lot of it ties into my last journal, too. >.< Deep therapy has played its part too, unfortunately, as though it's really important, it still has smashed me in terms of mental energy. >.<

So... my sister called me a week or two ago. I still haven't talked to my parents, and she's a bit upset with me. Note that she's not upset because I'm not talking to them, but because I haven't at least let them know what my decision is about them being in my life. I think she's right about that, as much as I wish she wasn't... and as much as I know many of you may disagree. I don't know how to do it though, because I'm fairly sure that I'd do far more damage trying to explain what they'd done in the inevitable "Why?". I don't respect them, don't love them, and wish like hell I could program them right out of my brain. >.< They have caused immeasurable damage that I have no idea how to recover from, and I probably would have been better off with *wolves*. >.<

I want them gone, I want to be healed, and I want the family I wish I had. And though I am making progress on all three, today it doesn't feel like it. >.< It hasn't felt like it for weeks. >.<

One thing that I just want to cry endlessly about is that I don't even know how to have a relationship with my sisters, even. Both are close to my parents, and I have no idea what cutting them off would do. I don't think it'd be intentional, but I feel like if I cut off my parents that I will inevitably lose them too. And honestly, I don't even know how to maintain a relationship with them without being constantly reminded of my parents, which I may not be able to handle anyways. >.<

I just want a safe and deep connection with my family, and I can't. >.< I'm fucking terrified. >.<

My therapist and I have been working on this stuff for weeks, really fighting it every session, trying to work on resources and honest-to-goodness healing, but every unlocked memory hurts more than the last. The part of me that's hiding even from myself is really, horribly, shattered, and I wish like hell she wasn't. That poor girl never had a fucking chance and never even knew it. >.<

She's still hiding in the stairwell, a place I used to go where no one would think to find me. Whether the back stairs that no one thought to check, or the unfinished wooden boards of the basement, it doesn't matter. She's still sitting there in the dark. She can't go down, nightmares of flames too terrifying to hide even deeper, in the not-even-lockable room with the gas-powered furnace, but she can't go up, into the brightly-lit kitchen either. There is nowhere that is safe. >.< And so she hides forever, or at least as long as she can, cold and alone. She hid other places too... in the bathroom that used to lock until her brother broke the handles, in the closet behind the clothes... she even hid in the crawlspace, that closet within a closet that only she knew she had opened. She lost that one to ice one winter, when the water crept inside the house, but at least she had the downstairs bathroom. Not even hers, in the middle of everything, the door could be barred with drawer as well as latch, making her feel a little safer... as long as she pretended not to hear the yelling through the door. >.< She hid *so much* and from *so much* and no one even realized she was scared. >.<

That poor little girl never even had a chance. As far as I can tell, she died there, alone in the cold, and I don't know how to bring her back. She's shivering, shaking in the tremors I feel even now, pausing every few seconds to let out a shudder of nervous energy that simply *will not let me be*. >.< Any time I get even close to this, it rises like a fucking tidal wave. I'm still terrified that it will one day put me in the hospital, possibly for good. >.<

On top of all this shit, the cultural rejection from my parents, we have the recent news, which really needs no explanation. The "bathroom bill" that just passed in North Carolina makes me want to just fucking sob, because I can already see the lives it will end. I know how badly the *explicit message of erasure* has hit me, and I can only imagine how bad the depression will be for bullied school kids as they are told by even their government that they are not worthy to exist. Madness. How the fuck do we expect *any* kid to not be destroyed by the fear resulting from this, in much the same way I was? >.<

I'm still hiding in that stairwell... and I don't know how to leave. >.<

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Zeta Syanthis

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